I always wanted my blog to be the kind where the real meat was in the comments section, and it is happening lately--so thank you to everyone who takes the time out of their days and nights to come here!!!!
These comments sections are fueling new topics for me faster than I can get them all down, even if I had nothing to do all day but sit and blog...so here's one out of the last post's comment area:
I had two c sections in the hospital, and both times, here is what I think I needed to save me from the surgeon's knife--or at very least--what I wish I could go back and experience, try, and then feel something closer to peace regarding the whole things.
When I was ten centimeters dilated, and hooked up to every flipping birth-intervention device there is, EVERY SINGLE ONE YOU CAN HAVE, (I think) I needed this:
A big strong positive female presence to come into the room, and unplug me from everything. First she would have to be VERY stern--even a bit mean. She might need to grab my face hard in her hands and STARE into my eyes as all those intoxicants wore off. I even give her permission to smack me or shake me. Once she unplugged me, she would immediately give me a few homeopathics under the tongue and long, nourishing, icy cold drink of some amazing beverage--maybe a laborade or an iced tea or hell, even some RedBull. She would help me to stand up and rub out my neck and shoulders and back really well, and get me out of that fricking hospital gown. She'd lead me over to an area of the floor that had some carpet and a big birthing ball, and Id get on my hands and knees, with my face and upper body draped over the ball. She'd see to it that I had a ponytail holder and a fan blowing on me. She'd turn the lights way down, and she would go sit in a nearby rocking chair. My husband would immediately join me down on the carpet area and we would labor together. Id push and Id bellow and Id rock that baby down. Mickey would have come down just fine, little 39 weeker, little under 9 pounder, and my obstetrical history would be forever righted. Baby #4,Charlie, same thing--although he was huge, 12 pounds, he was still smaller headed and chested than Baby #3,Casey was who was born at home just fine.
I am not saying some carpet square on a hospital floor is my ideal birth. I like home, I like water, I like freedom, etc. I am talking about how in the hell I was going to get out of the upside-down-paralyzed-turtle-rape situation that I found myself in twice. I should have had midwifery care from my first baby on, but that is not what I am referring to here.
I often 'talk to' this imaginary woman, and wonder who she is. I can see her face and feel her presence here and there in my life. I'm not too into ghosts and stuff but she is very real and important to me. Maybe she is me when I am an old midwife. She is very tall and quite large, maybe 300 pounds. She has ruddy cheeks and dresses in flowy fabrics, and is quite strong and serious and powerful and forthright. She had darkish hair and smelled of dusty herbs and ivory soap.